


Like Sunday Morning

by Green



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-17
Updated: 2010-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Chosen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katemonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katemonkey/gifts).



> Thanks to Gloss for the beta job.

He watched a sunbeam caught within a thin stream of light. It twinkled and floated almost magically, and for a moment, Oz was caught up in the magic of the mundane. Of course he knew it was only a dust mote, a little speck of shed skin or pulverized dirt, but it entranced him, glittering and levitating beside the wooden window sill.

The television murmured behind the counter, and some balls clicked together quietly on the snooker table in the corner. Oz was sitting in a padded wooden backed chair at a square gaming table, smooth ivory tiles before him. He was waiting for Mr. Renet to come sit and play dominoes, but first the old man had to file some tallies into his lock box.

Oz had found Renet's Billiards a few months before, while browsing down some New Orleans's older streets. It was dark inside the pool hall, and quiet. Old timers from the jazz scene hung out here, playing one pocket and straight pool, snooker and dominoes, talking about their lives and music and placing their bets on the same numbers game Pierre Renet had been running for forty years.

Mostly, Oz liked to sit and listen to the men impart their wisdom. It was vastly different from the monastery in Tibet, and yet exactly the same.

"Let's mix 'em up," Mr. Renet said, sitting down across from Oz.

They played quietly for a while, five dollars a game, both of them coming out even after ten games. Oz knew Pierre could have mopped the floor with him if he tried, but neither of them really played for the money. They just liked the company.

"You hear about that asteroid in California?" Pierre asked after a while.

"Sunnydale, yeah," Oz answered. "Used to live there."

Mr. Renet's eyebrows climbed. "Any family there?"

"Everyone left before the ... impact," Oz said. Which wasn't exactly true, of course, and not just the 'impact' part. The way Xander had explained it on the phone when Oz finally got in touch with him, they only barely outran the crater as it formed. He hadn't asked for specific details -- hellmouth fun hadn't been a part of his life for some time, and he liked it that way. It was enough to know that his friends, like his family who'd left earlier, were all alive.

"That's good. Good," Mr. Renet said, then turned back to his game.

Oz tried to focus on the little black dots, but they started to blur together as he stared. Two more hours, and he was supposed to meet Giles at the airport.

***

It isn't weird at all to see Giles again, like he had thought. Seeing him walk down the corridor, black carry-on bag slung over his shoulder, and the way his eyes lit up when he caught sight of him, instantly put Oz at ease. Giles hadn't brought any luggage, just what he had carried with him on the plane, so they bypassed the luggage carousel and went straight to the parking lot. They hadn't said a word to each other, it hadn't been necessary, but after they were both settled in the van and Oz went to put the key in the ignition, Giles reached out and rested his hand, warm and dry and tender, on his arm.

Oz's eyes widened as he looked at that sun browned hand resting on his skin, then glanced at Giles's face.

"It's good to see you," Giles said quietly.

A smile slowly grew on Oz's face as he took in the other man's expression. "You too."

***

"It's not much," Oz said, standing in his small, one room efficiency apartment.

"This is fine," Giles said, and sank down into an age beaten plaid recliner. Oz sat on the corner of his bed a few feet away.

Giles looked older than he remembered. He seemed weathered, with deeper creases around his eyes and more gray hairs than he had ever had. It had been a few years, but Oz knew it wasn't the time that had aged the man more quickly. He looked only vaguely like the Giles Oz had spent evenings with while he quietly sprawled on the floor listening to Velvet Underground and The Who.

"Shower's right through there," Oz said, pointing to the bathroom door. "I'm going out to get us some food. Chinese okay with you?"

Giles nodded and Oz left.

When he got back, he found Giles sleeping soundly on the rumpled sheets of the double bed, wearing a white tee-shirt and heather gray sweat pants. The air conditioning ran loudly on the highest setting, covering any sound Oz made.

Oz set the take-out on the table and sat down in the recliner, facing the bed. Giles looked like he had just laid down for a moment, not wanting to sleep, only to rest for a few minutes before his host returned. His chest rose and fell rhythmically as he slept deeply. Oz wondered how long it had been since he had been able to truly rest.

What Oz couldn't figure out, though, was *why* Giles had decided to come visit *him* as a respite from his life. He could have gone home to England, or vacationed in the Virgin Islands, even, if he just needed to get away. But instead, Giles had somehow found his number and called him, said he was coming to New Orleans, and asked if it would it be all right if he stayed with him. Of course he'd said yes, as he would have any time. This was Giles. As Oz contemplated the visit, and the sleeping form on the bed, his eyes drifted closed.

***

He became aware of something warm on his cheek, a dry touch that went away quickly, then back again on his forehead. He leaned into the feeling, wanting more, but it was gone and when he opened his eyes Giles was on the other side of the room at the microwave.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep. I was much more tired than I had thought, I suppose," Giles said. "And I certainly didn't mean to take your bed."

Oz shrugged and stood, rolling his head and working a kink out of his shoulder. The room he knew so well seemed at once too large for the two of them; Oz joined Giles and offered him a beer from the mini-fridge, taking one for himself. It gave him something to do, an excuse to be closer.

They both sat at the small square table and sorted out the food, sharing and eating with chopsticks in companionable silence.

Oz was the one to disturb the quiet. "So why is everyone in Ohio?"

"Another hellmouth," Giles answered.

Oz thought a moment, of the girls there, of the guidance they would need. "Are you planning on staying there? Permanently?" he asked.

Giles put his chopsticks in a now empty takeout box and sighed deeply. "I'm too old. I've done everything I can; I've given all I could. I just don't ... I don't have anything left."

Oz held back the question of where Giles would go now that he was shucking off the career he'd held for twenty years. He didn't ask what he was doing here, now. And Oz resisted telling him he still had *him*. Instead, he nodded and stood, clearing the table.

When Oz turned, he was suddenly very aware of another body, so close that he could feel the heat radiating off of his skin. Close enough to reach out and touch, if he chose. Or he could simply lean forward, just the tiniest bit, and ... there. It wasn't sending electricity coursing through his veins. Instead the feel of Giles's solid chest against his forehead, the hesitant hands on first his shoulders, then sliding around and down his back, sent warmth and comfort through him, along with a deeper longing that he was almost afraid to examine. Almost.

But then, as quickly and as smoothly as it came, Giles retreated, leaving Oz feeling somehow incomplete. If it had only been a moment there in those arms, how could it feel like it was the only place he ever wanted to be?

Giles stood, still and silent, before him.

"What was that?" Oz asked, his voice sounding hoarse and broken to his own ears.

"I'm sorry," Giles answered quietly, looking somewhere over Oz's shoulder. "I didn't ... I wasn't ..."

"You don't need to apologize." Oz looked into his face until his gaze was returned. Giles's eyes seemed to hold a faint hint of desperation and need, but Oz considered the fact that they only reflected back what they saw.

Giles turned quickly and walked away, sitting on the edge of the bed. He bowed his head into his hands, looking frustrated and taut with tension. Oz swallowed the lump in his throat and took a chance.

Giles looked up in surprise as Oz knelt on his knees between his legs, but he didn't push him away as he inched closer, Oz's face before his own. Giles didn't flinch back when the first touch of moist lips grazed against the stubble on his chin and slid up softly to taste his own lips. He didn't respond, either, just sat still and let Oz's tongue dart between his barely parted lips, then trace the slight contours of his mouth. Oz pulled back for a moment, his eyes searching.

"Why?" Giles said softly.

Oz didn't answer, only gave a little half smile and asked, "Am I wrong?"

Giles's could only focus on the mouth in front of him and shake his head slowly. It was all the permission Oz needed, and he edged closer and kissed him again, only this time, Giles kissed back.

Giles tasted tangy, like sweet and sour sauce. At first their tongues met hesitantly, barely stroking, soft like cotton candy. Oz grew bolder and touched Giles's arms, sliding his hands up along to his shoulders. Soon a hand was buried in Giles's hair, holding on and pulling him deeper into the kiss. Their mouths became more hungry, as they slowly slid their tongues together, back and forth, tasting and sucking and needing so much more.

Giles was gripping Oz tightly against him, and he moved back on the bed, tugging Oz with him. Oz followed easily, and moved to the side, one leg draped over Giles's hip. His hand found the hem of Giles's shirt and moved beneath the fabric, encountering warm skin and the soft hair on his stomach. Oz kissed him deeper as his hand roamed up to his chest, stroking lightly over a nipple and eliciting a frustrated groan. Giles briefly pressed a hand against where Oz's rested on his chest. Oz understood, and stroked more firmly. He found the nipple again and pinched, hard, and Giles moaned. The sound throbbed in Oz's cock and he ground his erection against Giles's hip.

Giles's fingers were on Oz's fly, unbuttoning and unzipping quickly, then tugging at the jeans and boxers. Oz moved to accommodate him, kicking them off at the end. Then Giles's hands were on him again, first smoothing over the smooth skin on his buttocks, then rolling him over and laying him down on his back. Giles looked down at him, so intense and wanting that Oz forgot to breathe. But soon he was gasping into another kiss as Giles's fingers wrapped around his erection, the sensation so pleasurably bright and bold that it burned him from the inside out.

Giles fucked his mouth with his tongue, sucking and thrusting as his hand pulled at Oz's cock. The skin rubbed harshly back and forth, too dry to be comfortable, but too sensational for Oz to stop thrusting, fucking into Giles's hand faster and harder with every stroke. Oz bit down on Giles's chin when he came, surprising them both with the intensity of his orgasm. Giles continued to pull him off slowly, his hand now wet with Oz's come. Giles nipped and licked at his lips, while Oz relaxed finally, his eyes fluttering closed as he smiled, satisfied.

After a few quiet minutes with only the sound of the air conditioning whirring in the background, Oz tensed. "Fuck," he said. He opened his eyes to see Giles beside him, an inscrutable look on his face. "I'm sorry for that," Oz said.

Giles grinned, and something in Oz flipped over at the sight. "Sorry for what?" Giles said.

"Coming like that. Too soon. God, you aren't even ..." Oz looked at Giles's fully dressed body. "You could have ..."

Giles just smiled and leaned over, kissing him gently on the forehead. "We've got time."

Oz reached up and touched his cheek, then ran his fingers lightly over the mark he'd made on his chin. "How much time?" he asked absently, but stopped any answer by leaning up and kissing Giles again, this time tugging his shirt up. They paused as Oz pulled the tee shirt over Giles's head, then resumed again, both of them reveling in the sensation of skin on skin. Giles pulled off his sweat pants as Oz removed his own shirt, and the both of them stilled for a moment, their eyes roaming over each other's bodies.

Giles tried to take control again, but Oz stilled him, rolling him onto his back and licking the salty skin of his neck, sliding his body against Giles's. He kissed and licked his way down to his chest, pausing to nip lightly at a small, pebbled nipple. Giles groaned and arched up, his cock pressing into Oz's stomach, then his chest as Oz slid down further, his tongue dipping into the navel. Giles's hands fisted into Oz's hair as he fought an inner battle for self-control.

Giles let out a low, throaty groan when Oz's mouth enveloped his cock in wet, soft warmth. He let go of his head and instead grasped at the sheets of the bed beneath him, thrusting up into Oz's mouth.

Oz held Giles's cock in a firm grasp, pulling at him in time to every bob of his head, lubricated with spit and Giles's own precum.

Giles completely lost control when Oz's fingers first cupped his balls, then grazed the skin behind them before pressing against the tight pucker of his ass. That was all it took to send Giles into desperate action, his hands flying to his lover's head as he pulled Oz down further while thrusting up into the glorious wet heat.

When Giles came, he arched completely off the bed, nearly dislodging Oz, who continued to suck and pull him off, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist, gripping his ass as he held on. Oz couldn't swallow every drop, and spilled a bit as Giles writhed and moaned, but no one was complaining.

After, Giles fell back and pulled Oz up into his arms. Oz laid his head on the other man's chest, feeling the racing beat of Giles's heart beneath his hand. Eventually, the beat slowed, and the two men drifted off into a twilight doze.

 

End


End file.
